


The Train Job

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bandits & Outlaws, Cowboys & Cowgirls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Reyes asks. Shimada raises his eyebrows but doesn’t speak.“Good news?” Jesse asks. Reyes nods, swirling the whiskey in his glass.“The bounty’s enough to make us all quite comfortable,” Reyes says. “For a while.”---Jesse agrees to a train job, despite his reservations.





	The Train Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [King_Carbonele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Carbonele/gifts).



> Happy McReyes Exchange Month to Blaine!! (@[shotgun-sinner](https://shotgun-sinner.tumblr.com) on Tumblr / @[king_carbonele](https://twitter.com/king_carbonele) on Twitter) I hope you like this piece - I had a lot of fun writing it ♥

The Blackwatch Posse is an open secret in the southwestern territories. When the local sheriff falls through and the marshals can’t finish the job, they call in Blackwatch. They’re the last line of defense against the outlaws that prowl the vast frontier that surrounds the settled towns. They’re practically outlaws themselves - their arrival in town was no cause for celebration, as it meant that trouble was brewing and violence was sure to follow. The respectable folks averted their eyes when the posse rode into town and some of the businesses would shutter their windows in hopes of being passed by. Mothers hurried children away from the street, even though little boys and girls alike always strained to get a glimpse of the infamous Blackwatch riders atop their dark stallions. 

The noontime sun beats down on his back as Jesse McCree rides into town in pursuit of their latest bounty. He can feel the sweat trickle down his neck and seep into his bandana. He glances sideways at Gabriel Reyes, who’s sitting tall astride his own horse, eyes shaded by the brim of his hat. 

“Where to, boss?” Jesse asks. 

“Sheriff first,” Reyes says. “Then we’ll put up the horses for the night.” 

“Wouldn’t mind a proper bed for once,” Jesse says. Reyes makes a small noise that might be a snort. 

“You going soft on me, McCree?” Reyes asks without looking at him. 

“Just tired of sleeping on rocks,” Jesse says amicably. “Not like I’m askin’ for a bath or nothing.” 

“You could stand a bath. You stink.” 

“Don’t we all,” Jesse says. “Maybe if this job goes well we can all have a soft bed and a warm bath.” 

“Hold onto that optimism,” Gabe says. “But let’s not push our luck.” 

“We’re always pushing our luck, boss.” 

“Well then let’s hope our luck holds at least one more time.” 

They ride to the sheriff’s outpost along the main section of town and tie up their horses. Jesse spots a little girl peeking out of the window of the general store the next building over. He tips his hat to her and winks. The little girl lights up, a huge smile and a blush spreading across her face. She ducks away. Jesse turns to follow Reyes into the sheriff’s office. 

The job has become routine almost to the point of being dull; there’s always some band of outlaws robbing some travelers or traders, and the marshals are almost always unable to track them down. This job sounds more or less the same, so Jesse only half-listens as Reyes works out the details with the sheriff. He glances around and nudges Shimada, who glares at him over the bandana he habitually keeps drawn over the lower half of his face to hide the horrific disfigurement of his nose and jaw. Jesse jerks his head at the wanted posters hanging on the wall; the bounty for the Junkers, a troublesome duo with a predilection for nitro, has been increased. Shimada raises his eyebrows interestedly. 

“Thank you kindly, Sheriff. We’ll keep you informed,” Reyes is saying. He turns back to Jesse, Shimada, and Doc O’Deorain, who is hanging back disinterestedly. “Let’s get moving.” 

The posse files out of the sheriff’s office and back out to the horses. 

“So what do we got, boss? Highway bandits? Cattle thieves?” 

“Didn’t you hear the sheriff talking?” 

“I like hearing you say it, boss,” Jesse says, flashing Reyes his signature roguish smile. Reyes’ face remains, as usual, impassive. “You got a certain way of talkin’ that just sets my heart aflutter.” 

Somewhere behind him, Jesse hears Doc O’Deorain scoff. 

“Let’s find somewhere to put up the horses for the night,” Reyes says. “We can talk about the job over some food.” 

“Works for me,” Jesse says. He swings himself up into the saddle of his horse, a stallion he calls Buckshot. 

The Blackwatch Posse ends up at a brothel on the edge of town - a not-uncommon lodging for them, as the brothels usually have a couple extra rooms to rent and don’t mind their company. Blackwatch is always polite and never takes advantage, which the working girls seem to appreciate. Another benefit: the brothels are always well stocked with liquor. 

The brothel is quiet at this time in the afternoon, so the posse is able to take a table to themselves and eat and drink unbothered. They make it through a whole first round of food and booze before any of them speak. Reyes refills his glass with whiskey that doesn’t taste like raw alcohol and then passes the bottle to Jesse. 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Reyes asks. Shimada raises his eyebrows but doesn’t speak. 

“Good news?” Jesse asks. Reyes nods, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

“The bounty’s enough to make us all _quite_ comfortable,” Reyes says. “For a while.” 

“You mean I can finally get my own scrap of land?” Jesse asks, half-serious, but half-not. He’s more or less resigned himself to life on the road. It’s more likely than not that he’ll die on the job, and it’s not like he’s got family or anything to worry about. It’d be the right way to go. 

“More than a scrap, I’d reckon,” Reyes says. He downs his whiskey in one go. 

“So what’s the catch?” Jesse asks. Reyes takes the bottle back from Jesse to pour himself another couple of fingers. 

“It’s a train job.” 

Shimada makes a noise and gets up abruptly. He swipes the bottle of whiskey off the table and stalks upstairs to his rented room. Doc O’Deorain looks similarly peeved, but, then again, she pretty much always looks like that. 

“You do remember how that last train job went, right boss?” Jesse asks. Reyes waves down the bartender for another bottle. 

“I do.” 

“It went _bad_. You remember that too, right?” 

“I do.” 

“Then why the fuck did you sign us up for another one of them?” 

The bartender brings Reyes another bottle. Reyes refills Jesse’s glass and then his own. 

“I seem to remember you telling me that train jobs were your specialty, when you joined up,” Reyes says. 

“Different life, boss,” Jesse says darkly. He doesn’t like being reminded of his past as an outlaw - Reyes had promised that Jesse had left that life behind once and for all when he joined up with Blackwatch. “And the posse ain’t got a good track record with train jobs.” 

“I think we can handle this one,” Reyes says. “The price is right.” 

“Unless we die messily,” Doc O’Deorain says, her voice dry. Reyes raises his glass to her. 

“There is always that possibility,” Reyes says. “But I have confidence in our combined abilities.” 

“Brilliant,” Doc O’Deorain says. She reaches for the bottle. 

“I’m real glad you think so highly of us, boss,” Jesse says. The corner of Reyes’ mouth quirks up - a rare occurrence that makes something in Jesse’s chest go light and fluttery. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t think we could pull it off.” 

Jesse clinks his glass against Reyes’. “Cheers, boss.” 

▲▼▲

Shimada stays in his room for the rest of the night and, at some point, Doc O’Deorain avails herself of the hospitality, disappearing with a petite blonde woman into a room upstairs. Jesse stays with Reyes at their table in the corner of the bar, sharing a bottle as the night falls and the brothel begins to get busy. 

It’s as close to a routine as anything Jesse’s ever had, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mostly, he and Reyes don’t talk much, passing the bottle back and forth in a comfortable silence. Jesse cherishes these moments. He rarely gets Reyes to himself. Even though they spend most of the time without speaking, there isn’t any awkwardness between them. Jesse can feel Reyes relax into his seat, something that he doesn’t do often. Reyes is closed off, private, but Jesse feels some kind of special connection. It might be all in his head. On the other hand, Jesse’s never seen Reyes sit with either Shimada or Doc O’Deorain like this. 

“So, the payout,” Jesse says at some point in the evening, leaning in towards Reyes so that he doesn’t have to raise his voice too much to be heard over the boisterous chatter in the bar. Reyes turns slightly to look at Jesse then he leans in too, tilting his head towards Jesse so he can hear. Jesse can smell the leather and gunpowder on his body. “Is it really that good?” 

Reyes considers for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

“Enough to retire?” Jesse asks. Reyes lifts one eyebrow slightly. 

“You looking to settle down, McCree?” 

Jesse shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “I always dreamed about having a place to call my own. Some land, some cattle. Nothing big. I ain’t never had a place to lay my head for very long.” 

Reyes looks at Jesse for a long moment, the oil lamps in the bar catching on the little gold flecks in his irises. Jesse can’t bring himself to look away. He swallows around a lump in his throat. 

Reyes looks away first, picking up his glass to sip his whiskey. 

“I suppose I never thought that far ahead.” 

“No?” Jesse asks. He clears his throat. “Why not?” 

“Always figured I’d die on the job,” Reyes says. He looks at Jesse sideways again. “Didn’t think you were one for domestic daydreams.” 

Jesse feels the color rise to his cheeks. He takes a long sip of whiskey to hide his embarrassment. 

“We all dream about shit we ain’t never had, right?” Jesse says. A look passes over Reyes’ face that has the effect of softening his features slightly. It happens so quickly that Jesse wonders if he imagined it. 

“Well let’s hope this job goes the way it’s supposed to go, then,” Reyes says. 

“It almost never does,” Jesse says. 

“Don’t say shit like that,” Reyes says. 

“What? You’ve kept me alive so far.” 

“No need to tempt fate, then.” 

The alcohol is sitting warm in Jesse’s belly. It makes him more bold than he is wont to be. He leans in towards Reyes again, that same roguish grin on his lips. Reyes stays very still, his eyes roaming over Jesse’s face. 

“You’d never let me die,” Jesse says. 

“Of course not,” Reyes replies, voice low. Jesse watches his mouth form the words: “I need you, Jesse.” 

If Jesse wasn’t sitting down, he would’ve toppled over. As it is, he’s not entirely sure he didn’t hallucinate those words. It’s one thing to imagine Reyes saying it - it’s quite another to actually hear it. He doesn’t know what to say for several long moments. 

Reyes breaks the silence, leaning back in his chair as he downs the last of his whiskey. He stands up, nudging the bottle towards Jesse. 

“Get some sleep in a real bed,” Reyes says, back to his characteristically brusque tone. “We’re headed out in the morning.” 

Jesse blinks up at him, his mind still trying to process Reyes’ words. He nods dumbly and then watches Reyes move through the bar and disappear up the stairs to the rented rooms. 

▲▼▲

The following morning, the Blackwatch Posse boards the train that’s meant to be the target of the Los Muertos heist. Doc O’Deorain rides up front with the proper folk while Shimada lets himself into one of the cargo cars to lie in wait. Reyes finds a seat near the back with easy access to the cargo cars. Jesse makes a sweep of the train, looking for any suspicious people. He makes note of a couple of unfriendly faces, but no obvious members of Los Muertos. He heads towards the back of the train where Reyes is sitting and takes a seat on the other side of the car. Jesse glances across the aisle to Reyes, who is looking out the dusty window. He looks as cool as ever, the brim of his hat tipped back slightly in an attempt to look slightly less sinister than usual. Still, the other passengers have given Reyes a wide berth. Jesse can see the scars that criss-cross Reyes’ face from his own seat. He always thought they were a handsome addition to Reyes’ features, but regular folks tended to think otherwise. Reyes meets Jesse’s eyes. Jesse give him a tiny head shake - nothing out of sorts. Reyes nods and resumes looking out the window. 

Jesse slouches down in his seat, pulling down his hat and crossing his arms over his chest, as if settling in for a nap. In reality, he’s keeping a sharp eye on the landscape streaking past the train. They’ve got it on reasonable authority that Los Muertos are attempting to uncouple one of the cars before they hit a tunnel. If they aren’t on board already, the gang is probably going to approach on horseback. It’s going to get messy. 

But, for now, all they can do is wait. 

The gang strikes when the train emerges from a tunnel. Out of the corner of Jesse’s eye, he sees a puff of dust rise up out of the landscape, and then the dark shadows of horses materializing alongside the train. Jesse stands and makes a show of stretching before he heads back, ostensibly towards the toilets. He waits for a moment, then slips out the door of the back of the carriage. 

Noise and dust hits Jesse immediately. He tugs the bandana around his neck up over his nose and mouth and squints through the thick air. He can’t hear the hoofbeats over the sound of the train engine, but he can see the shadows of the horsemen flickering in and out of the dust like ghosts. 

The carriage door opens behind him and Reyes steps out to join Jesse on the narrow platform between cars. 

“Anything?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Get into position. Doc O’Deorain has the front covered. I’ll let Shimada know we’ve got company,” Reyes says. He meets Jesse’s eyes. “Be careful up there.” 

Jesse gives Reyes a mock salute before he steps neatly over the coupling between carriages. He times his jump in tandem with the sway of the train and his fingers catch on the overhang above the platform. With a kick of his legs, Jesse hauls himself up onto the roof. 

Just like old times. 

Jesse stays low, feet planted, fingers gripping the roof panels as best he can, his eyes tearing from the air whipping past his head. They can’t know for sure what Los Muertos are planning, and Jesse hates surprises. The anticipation is the worst part. 

The train rocks steadily under Jesse. It would almost be soothing if it weren’t so god damned dangerous. He tries not to think about the things he’d do for Reyes - he’d follow him to the gates of hell and back if he asked, and probably even if he didn’t. 

Fortunately, Jesse doesn’t have to wait long. The train rocks with some kind of impact. Jesse looks over his shoulder to see smoke beginning to rise from between two of the cargo carriages. Gritting his teeth, Jesse turns and crawls towards the source of the smoke. 

Even under the best of circumstances, Jesse would not recommend to anyone that they crawl along the roof of a moving train. As a kid, he’d cut his teeth doing exactly that for the Deadlock gang before being recruited by Reyes, practically as the marshals were tightening the noose around his neck. Life in the Blackwatch Posse was a marked improvement over his life with Deadlock, but Jesse had really hoped that he had left the train jobs behind him. 

The train rocks again and Jesse has to scrabble to keep his hold on the slippery roof, his boots bracing against a strut. The smoke is billowing in earnest by the time Jesse gets to the end of the roof. He peeks over the edge. There’s two figures struggling in the smoke - Jesse thinks he makes out the dull roar of Reyes’ signature shotgun - but he doesn’t have enough time to know for sure because the coupling between the cars' snaps. One of the figures falls to the track between the carriages. 

Jesse jumps to the other carriage without a second thought. 

He did not account for another explosion. Los Muertos isn’t known to dabble in nitro, but the explosives have been popping up more and more lately, so it wasn’t completely unexpected that they would’ve used such methods when trying to pull a train job. But Jesse would’ve thought that two explosions would be enough to decouple the cars. It speaks to their inexperience with the method, in all likelihood. Third time’s the charm? 

Jesse feels the heat on his face. He hits the back of the other carriage hard, the edge of the roof smacking him in the chest hard enough to crack a rib or two. He tries to suck in a breath, but the shock of the impact and the smoke choking the air makes it difficult for him to breath. He scrambles to get a purchase on the roof. There’s a commotion below him - he can hear clamoring in the car, and what sounds like a gunshot or two - but Jesse can’t afford to look down. He manages to swing a leg up and is about to hoist himself onto the roof when someone grabs his leg and pulls _hard_. 

It happens fast. Jesse’s grip slips and he feels himself falling. He shuts his eyes. The engine is already a ways ahead of the decoupled carriage, which is losing speed. But even at this speed, falling from a moving train is liable to be a death sentence. 

He hits the narrow platform above the smoldering coupling, his cheek bouncing off metal. Jesse’s head spins. He can still feel someone holding onto his leg so he kicks out, unable to do anything else from his position. He can see the rails moving rapidly under the car and then a fist connects with his cheek. Jesse swings wildly, but the blows keep coming. He manages to haul himself up onto the platform a little bit better and with another kick of his legs he sends the attacker sprawling to the ground next to him. With tremendous effort, Jesse rolls to pin the man to the platform. The man struggles - but he has the advantage of having not mis-timed a jump. He overpowers Jesse, rolling them until he’s straddling Jesse’s waist, both hands around his throat. 

Jesse gasps for breath, thrashing as best as he can, doing anything he can do to dislodge the man from his throat, but his grip is tight and Jesse is rapidly losing air. The edges of his vision go fuzzy and darken. All he can hear is the roar of the train mingling with the blood pounding in his ears. Another shot cuts through the cacophony. The man with his hands around Jesse’s throat suddenly goes limp and tumbles forward over the edge of the platform. His weight drags Jesse over the edge too. 

At the last moment, a strong hand pulls Jesse back from the edge. Jesse swears his nose almost touched the steel tracks below. 

When he’s finally upright, seated on the platform with his back to the door of the carriage, Jesse blinks sluggishly. Reyes has a hand pressed against his shoulder, as if to ground him. 

“You still with me, Jesse?” Reyes asks. Jesse blinks again, trying to clear his vision. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He tries to get up but Reyes pushes him back down. Jesse’s head spins. 

“That was the last of them,” Reyes says. 

“You mean I missed all the fun?” 

“Looks to me like you had enough fun on your own.” 

Jesse laughs wetly, then winces. He can taste blood in his mouth and it hurts to breathe. Reyes’ face is uncharacteristically worried - his brow is pinched, his jaw tight. 

“You alright?” Reyes asks. Jesse lifts his eyes to look at him and Reyes winces. “Sit tight. We’re almost through here.” 

“I may pass out on you,” Jesse says. His vision is going fuzzier, darker. Reyes shifts and then sits down against the door next to Jesse, his thigh pressed up against Jesse’s. Jesse tries to focus on that feeling instead of the pain radiating through his body. 

“I won’t let you fall,” Reyes says. 

“I told you I hate train jobs,” Jesse says, slumping into Reyes’ side, something he’d never do under any other circumstance. 

“I can see why,” Reyes says. Jesse lets his cheek fall against Reyes’ shoulder, breathing in the smell of leather and gunsmoke. 

“I’d do anything for you, though,” Jesse mumbles. He feels Reyes shift next to him and then a heavy weight drapes over Jesse’s shoulders - Reyes’ arm. 

“I know, Jesse,” Reyes says quietly. Jesse slips out of consciousness as the uncoupled train carriage slowly rolls to a stop. 

▲▼▲

Jesse comes to as Reyes and Shimada are hoisting him onto Reyes’ horse. He seems to have missed most of the clean-up, which is undoubtedly the cause of Shimada’s crankiness. 

“Easy, Shimada,” Reyes snaps. “He’s already been through enough.” 

Shimada mumbles something disparaging under his breath. Jesse saves him from the dressing down by cracking open his eyes. 

“Eh, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Jesse asks. Reyes’ head jerks up, his attention immediately on Jesse. 

“We’re headed back to town. I don’t think you should ride alone,” Reyes says. 

“Probably not,” Jesse admits. He tries to straighten himself astride the horse, but something in his chest pulls horribly. Reyes swings up behind him. 

“Just try not to move too much,” Reyes says. His chest is flush with Jesse’s back. Jesse closes his eyes again and leans into Reyes’ warm bulk. 

“Sure thing, boss.” 

It’s past sunset when they finally ride into town. Jesse’s whole body is singing with pain, but he’s doing his best not to make a fuss. 

“We’re headed straight to the brothel,” Reyes says in Jesse’s ear. His breath is warm and damp on Jesse’s skin and he has to suppress a shiver. “Get you cleaned up. We have to wait for the marshal’s report anyway.” 

“Uh huh,” Jesse says, trying not to let himself get distracted. “Sounds good.” 

“You holding up?” 

“I’m still alive, anyway.” 

“We’ll have Doc O’Deorain get a better look once we’re back at the brothel,” Reyes says. Jesse groans. 

“I’d rather not,” Jesse says. He can almost feel Reyes’ frown. 

“You might need stitching,” Reyes says. 

“No offense to the good doc, but I’ve had enough of her doctorin’ ever since she said cutting off my arm was the only solution to a broken wrist,” Jesse says. Behind him, Reyes huffs out a little laugh. Jesse feels it against the back of his neck. 

“What if you’re bleeding?” Reyes asks. 

“Some whiskey and warm water and I’ll be just fine,” Jesse says, hoping he sounds convincing. For what it’s worth, Reyes doesn’t press the issue again. 

They tie up their horses at the trough out in front of the brothel. Shimada goes off to find some feed for the horses while Doc O’Deorain takes care of food for the humans. Reyes slides off his horse and looks up at Jesse. 

“You need a hand?” he asks. Jesse shakes his head. 

“Nah,” Jesse says, but doesn’t move. Reyes raises an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest. 

“Uh huh.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jesse says. “I’m fine.” 

With great effort, Jesse slings his leg over the pommel of the saddle. It’s too much too fast; his head swims with pain and he doesn’t manage to grab onto the reins before he slips down the side of the horse. Reyes steps in and catches him at the last moment, holding Jesse to his chest, arms strong and steady. Jesse tips his chin up to look Reyes in the eye. He’s haloed by moonlight, his dark curls wild from riding all evening. 

“That’s the second time you caught me today,” Jesse says, unwilling to detangle himself from Reyes’ arms. “You’re always saving my life.” 

“You sure you’re alright?” 

“Uh huh,” Jesse says. Whether he can blame the pain or the blood loss or a temporary bout of insanity is up for debate. He leans in and presses his mouth to Reyes’ like he’s dreamed of doing for ages. It seems like the right thing to do after everything. He feels Reyes’ arms tighten around him, his mouth softening slightly against Jesse’s, and then he’s stepping back, moving his hands to hold Jesse at arm’s length. 

“We gotta get you cleaned up,” Reyes says gruffly. Jesse swallows around the lump in his throat. The pain in his chest is suddenly not totally physical. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

It’s slow going up the stairs to Jesse’s tiny rented room. Jesse leans heavily into Reyes’ side, wondering what on earth he was thinking. Reyes doesn’t say anything, just nudges open the door with his foot and carefully depositing Jesse on the bed. Reyes grabs the pitcher off the washstand. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Jesse nods, not trusting himself to speak. Reyes slips back out of Jesse’s room and only then does Jesse let out a breath he feels like he’s been holding since he dared to kiss Reyes. 

What was he thinking? 

Instead of trying to make sense of it, Jesse does his best to peel away his outer layers. He kicks off his boots and shrugs out of his coat. His clothes are singed and bloodied. He wonders how much of that blood is his own. Every movement introduces a new pain. His whole body feels tender - he’d hate to see himself in a mirror. 

Jesse manages to get down to his johns before Reyes comes back with the pitcher full of water. He sets the pitcher down on the washstand along with a bottle of whiskey. 

“Hell,” Reyes says, eyes roaming over Jesse’s bruised and battered body. Does his face soften or is Jesse imagining it? 

“I ain’t feeling too hot, boss,” Jesse says. Reyes grabs a washcloth from the washstand and pours water into the basin. 

“No more train jobs after this one,” Reyes says. “I promise.” 

“You said that last time,” Jesse says. Reyes dabs at a cut under Jesse’s left eye. Jesse winces. 

“I mean it this time.” 

“Sure,” Jesse says. “Easy to say before we get that payout. Then there’s always the thought, maybe just one more…” 

“I thought you were settling down after this,” Reyes says lightly. Jesse lifts his eyes to look at Reyes’ face, but he’s intently studying another cut on Jesse’s collar bone. 

“Guess I did say that,” Jesse says. Reyes’ hand keeps moving, his touch surprisingly delicate. Jesse closes his eyes. “Dunno. I reckon I can’t take falling off of trains too much anymore.” 

“I caught you,” Reyes says. 

“What if you’re not there to catch me next time?” Jesse asks. Reyes’ hand stills. He looks up to meet Jesse’s gaze. There’s something in his eyes that Jesse can’t quite place. He swallows hard. 

“Didn’t you hear me before?” Reyes says, his voice going rough. “I need you, Jesse.” 

Jesse’s head swims, though he can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the surge of emotions that suddenly well up in his throat. 

“I thought you were just…” Jesse starts to say, then stops. He feels woozy. Reyes’ hand comes up to cup the side of Jesse’s face, gently, tenderly, careful to avoid Jesse’s many cuts and bruises. 

“Just what?” 

“Sayin’ things,” Jesse says faintly. The corner of Reyes’ mouth twitches up. 

“Thought you knew me well enough to know I only say what I mean,” Reyes says. 

“You lie to people all the time,” Jesse says. He reaches up and puts his hand over Reyes’ on his cheek, mostly to ground himself. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“Other people don’t matter.” 

Jesse swallows thickly. “Oh.” 

“You - you’re important to me,” Reyes says haltingly, stumbling over the words like they’re unfamiliar. His eyes haven’t left Jesse’s face, and there’s a distinct uncertainty in his gaze now, his brow knitted together. 

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Jesse asks before he can stop himself. Reyes blinks, surprised, but he finally looks away, almost shy. 

“You’re in no state,” Reyes says. “Don’t want to take advantage.” 

Jesse reaches with his other hand and turns Reyes’ head back to face him. 

“I want you to,” Jesse says. 

“You’re concussed,” Reyes says, unconvincingly. 

“Yeah, but I mean it.” 

Reyes huffs out a little laugh. He meets Jesse’s eyes again and then he tilts forward to press his mouth against Jesse’s. Jesse lets his eyes slide closed, savoring the moment. He wonders if this is all a dream. 

Reyes pulls away first and scans Jesse’s face, as if looking for a sign that Jesse might be upset with him, or that he'd changed his mind. Jesse smiles at him lopsidedly, painfully. It must come out more like a grimace because Reyes reaches for the bottle of whiskey. 

“We should get you cleaned up,” Reyes says. He uncorks the bottle and hands it to Jesse. “Hold still.” 

“For you, Gabe, anything.” 

Reyes ducks his head but he fails to hide his smile. With careful, tender hands, Reyes cleans Jesse up as best as he can. He bandages his ribs and throws a couple of stitches into the worst cut on Jesse’s cheek. When he’s finished, he ties off the thread and runs his thumb just under the freshly stitched flesh. He presses a tiny, light kiss to the end of the wound. 

“There,” Reyes says. He tosses the dirty washcloth into the basin. “Should get some rest.” 

“Stay with me?” Jesse asks. Reyes looks at him again, the light of the oil lamp making his skin glow golden. 

“Alright.” 

It’s ridiculous, the two of them crammed into a bed meant for one. But Jesse finds himself slotted up against Reyes’s chest, head tucked under his chin, one of Reyes’ arms thrown over his shoulders, and he couldn’t think of a better way to sleep. 

Morning comes too soon, and with it a fresh sense of pain. All the aches have settled now, hurting in a way that only healing flesh can manage. Jesse shifts and groans into Reyes’ chest. He feels Reyes’ hand flatten against his back. 

“Mm - alright?” Reyes asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Feel like I got hit by a train,” Jesse mumbles. Reyes snorts. 

“Not exactly.” 

Jesse peeks up at Reyes, who’s still mostly asleep. His long, dark lashes brush the tops of his cheeks and his curly hair flops over his forehead. Jesse leans up - even though it hurts - and presses a soft kiss to Reyes’ mouth. Reyes makes a small surprised noise. 

“Is this… this still alright?” Jesse asks. 

“Was about to ask you the same question,” Reyes says. He shifts a little then draws Jesse in, planting a proper kiss on Jesse’s lips - long and slow, bone-meltingly warm. Jesse could lose himself in it. He gives himself up to it. He kisses Reyes back, tasting him, memorizing the way his lips feel against his own. 

The only thing that stops him is the pain. 

Reyes shifts and helps Jesse sit up. Jesse does so with a wince. 

“We should get you to a real doctor,” Reyes says, worry bleeding into his voice. Jesse glances at him sideways. 

“I’m not about to spend all my hard-earned cash on some quack,” Jesse says. “Just need some rest. I’ll be fine.” 

“What about…” Reyes hesitates. Jesse looks at him again. 

“What?” 

“You really thinking about settling down?” 

“Can’t do this forever, you know?” Jesse shrugs with his good shoulder. Reyes nods. Jesse reaches out to take his hand. “But I ain’t going anywhere without you.” 

▲▼▲

It doesn’t happen for several more years after the train job, but, eventually, they do settle down. With their combined savings, they have more than enough for a generous plot of land, a couple dozen head of cattle, and some tillable land. 

In the golden hours one late afternoon, Jesse brings the cattle in for the night, bringing up the rear astride Buckshot as the dogs herd the cattle into their pen. He spots Gabe standing on the porch of their little house as he’s closing up the pen. Instead of taking Buckshot back to the stable, Jesse rides to the porch. 

“Everything alright?” Jesse asks. Gabe smiles up at him. 

“Just counting my blessings,” Gabe says. Jesse grins. 

“You’ve gone soft in your old age, boss,” he says. 

“Come down here and say that,” Gabe says, voice stern but eyes sparkling. 

Obligingly, Jesse slides off his horse and sweeps off his hat. He pulls Gabe in by the front of his vest. 

“You going soft on me, Gabe?” Jesse asks, lips close to Gabe’s. 

“No, never,” Gabe says and closes the gap between them with a kiss. 


End file.
